


sinking silk and burning gold

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Bruce Banner is doing his best, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fake Science, Fluff and Angst, Hero Worship, I REALLY WANT TO EMPHASIZE JUST HOW DUBIOUS THIS CONSENT IS, Iron Man Suit Kink, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Porn with some plot, Praise Kink, Weird Power Dynamics, spider pheromones, this isn't how ethics work in real life, you can't cancel me if you can't find me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-26 10:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: While undergoing some routine testing, Peter Parker manifests a new ability! It's pheromones that influence the emotions and behavior of the people around him. Pretty cool, huh? Too bad Peter has no idea he's doing it. As far as he can tell, everyone is just being like REALLY nice to him all of a sudden, and why would he question that? His crushes on Tony Stark and Steve Rogers aren't relevant to this, are they???? (They are.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so here's the deal: Peter Parker is 19 years old and living with the Avengers at the compound in Upstate. The Avengers are back together and working with SHIELD, everything is fine, and no one has ever heard of Thanos. I decided that it would be fun if Peter developed pheromones like Spider-Woman has in the comics, but not know he has them. Whoops. Sorry Peter. Sorry, the Avengers.
> 
> at first they just make everyone be really nice to Peter, but then Peter is horny, so like... what do you expect??? 
> 
> (title from "it doesn't change" by the church, because spider pheromones come from silk, get it? also I'm goth trash)

It was a simple exercise in interrogation resistance. That’s all it was supposed to be. Peter would be dosed with a mild hallucinogen that SHIELD had created to emulate the fear and stress of real life combat, and undergo a line of questioning. Intellectually, he knew that he was in the Avengers Compound, with Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner all outside, watching his responses and vitals. Intellectually, he knew that Nick Fury was just doing what he was supposed to do: intimidate Peter psychologically to try to get Peter to break and give him the nonsense code he’d been given to remember, but that no one was in any danger.

Yet, when Fury read off his address, Aunt May’s work address, Ned and MJ's dorms, all of their schedules… Peter struggled to fight back tears. It felt so real, and he was so scared for them.

“I’m not telling you,” he said, trying to sound determined.

Fury smiled and shook his head. “That’s sweet, kid, noble even… but be smart. Think about it, Peter. Think about these people’s lives, their potential. Ned is so smart, could do so much for the world. That kind of intelligence and kindness in one person? Come on Peter, you know how rare that is.”

“No,” Peter protested, shaking in his chair.

“And your Aunt May, she’s just getting back into the swing of life, right? There’s no reason she couldn’t find love again, and with your new connections Peter? She could have money. She could stop working all those shifts.”

Peter couldn’t stop shaking, rage quickly replacing the fear, blinding and hot, silencing him.

“Did you know she wrote poetry when she was younger? She was pretty good too. She could pursue that. You don’t need to be a hero, Peter.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Peter managed to grit out through his tight throat and clenched teeth.

“Damn,” Fury continued, getting up and pulling out his phone. “That’s a shame. You’ve lost so much already, I really didn’t think you’d give up everyone else you cared about. But it’s your choice.”

“PUT THE PHONE DOWN,” Peter screamed with a rage he’d never felt before, he felt powerless and terrified and desperate. And much to his surprise, Nick Fury dropped his phone and quickly backed away as far as he could from Peter.

“H-hey kid, it’s o-okay,” Fury stammered, visibly shaking, backing away towards the door, trying to turn the handle. “It w-wasn’t real Peter. You passed,” he whimpered and escaped out the door.

Peter heard the mechanical whir of lockdown being released, watched the mirrors turn back into clear glass, and was very, very grateful to have a rush of relief flood his veins. The drug’s antidote soothed him, and he’d been warned it would make him sleepy. Under increasingly heavy eyelids, Peter saw Mr. Stark rush into the room. He wasn’t alert enough to notice the way his mentor stopped for less than a second in shock before running to his side. “Hey, hey, Peter, hey kid. You’re fine. You’re safe. Jesus, fuck. You’re okay. You passed. It’s over.” There was so much concern in Mr. Stark’s voice… but it was so soothing, so nice. Peter smiled sleepily at his hero, blinking slowly.

“I did good, sir?”

Mr. Stark had never looked at him so fondly, Peter was sure. He’d never looked at him with so much softness and care. Peter didn’t even need to hear the words, but he was glad he did anyways. “Oh buddy, you were _perfect_.”

And then Peter was dozing, smiling, feeling safe in Mr. Stark’s warm embrace. Peter wouldn’t remember hobbling back to his room with Mr. Stark under his arm, supporting him. He wouldn’t remember the commotion between Dr. Banner and Director Fury and Captain Rogers:

“Director Fury, sir, I don’t understand what just happened.”

“I-I don’t know either Rogers… Banner! You need to figure this out. I need to get out of here.”

“I’ll do what I can and run some tests.”

**

Tony tucked Peter into bed and pulled a chair up next to him. “FRIDAY,” he whispered, “dim the lights and cancel my meetings for the rest of the day.” He didn’t even think about what he was doing, and couldn’t really remember what his meetings were that day, or if he had any. All he knew is that taking care of Peter was priority one. Peter… Peter was doing such a good job. He was working so hard, and had so much goodness in him. At Peter’s age, Tony probably would have cracked in minutes, but Peter, Peter who had lost so many people and loved the ones he had so fiercely, who worked twice as hard as any other Avenger, Peter stood his ground and sent Nick fucking Fury running, just through sheer conviction. Tony pretended a strand of hair was in Peter’s face so he could tuck it away, trailing his fingertip along the kid’s forehead. He was so proud. So happy. Tony was so proud his chest hurt. Peter needed to rest and recover, and his usual high alert senses wouldn’t be working for at least a few hours. So Tony would sit with him and watch over him. It was the least he could do. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead and took a deep breath of his hair. How had Tony never noticed how good he smelled? “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, sitting back, letting his boy sleep, content to just watch.

Tony was not happy to be dragged away from Peter’s bedside after only five hours by a lab fire, but he was distracted quickly enough. And thanks to Peter’s healing abilities, he was joining Tony for breakfast the very next morning— days before the SHIELD techs had said he’d be back on his feet! “Amazing,” Tony had thought, shaking his head, as he watched Peter pad his way to the kitchen to eat Cap’s hours old breakfast leftovers after resting only 8 hours. A normal night’s sleep for a healthy person! Incredible, really. 

Tony tried not to beam at the kid too much. But when Peter looked up at him over his mug of coffee and asked, “so Mr. Stark, what are you up to today?” what could Tony do but drag Peter with him to his workshop. He should have been doing this already, he realized once they sat down. Tony had so many plans for Spider-Man suits and gadgets, and things for the rest of the team, he really should have the second best mind in the Avengers on it.

“Hey kid, I’m transferring you a few thousand plans I’ve been fooling around with, just to start you out. Take your time looking through them and let me know what you think.”

Peter beamed at him, smiling wide in his pajamas, bare feet curled up under him on the lab sofa. “Thanks so much Mr. Stark! This is a real honor.”

“I trust you Peter, and I value your opinion,” Tony scoffed, ruffling the kid’s hair before sitting down with his own work. He did value Peter’s opinion, but it was also just nice to have him there, by his side. That’s how things really should be, Tony thought to himself, before letting himself be completely swallowed by the miles long list of problems he had to fix that day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is worried Peter isn't getting enough to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in end notes

Steve and Banner had gone over the footage of Peter 100 times, and all they could conclude was that Peter Parker, 19 year old resident of Queens, New York, had intimidated SHIELD Director Nick Fury, age unknown, residence unknown, in a controlled interrogation exercise, so badly that Fury had fled the state. Dr. Banner, who kept insisted that Steve finally start calling him Bruce, had explained all the brain scan and heart scan readings to Steve, and the two men had even reached out to Dr. Cho to double check that nothing in those readings was out of the ordinary. She came up with nothing, just an elevated stress response, same as anyone else who’d ever taken the test

They’d resolved to give the kid a day or so to recover, and then bring him in to talk. Steve texted Natasha, who was doing wilderness survival with Vision and Wanda, to see if she wanted to switch places with him and do the questioning, but Nat doubted that her skillset would be necessary. Steve shrugged, checked in with Bruce, and went to find Peter.

“Hiya FRIDAY, could you please let me know where I can find Peter Parker?” Steve asked, getting into the elevator.

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” the AI’s voice came in immediately. “You can find Peter in the kitchen.”

“Thanks so much, ma’am. Hope you’re having a good day,” Steve said. No reason to be rude to someone just because they're a robot.

Peter stood in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge with a furrowed brow. He looked hungry to Steve. In fact, he looked too thin. Sure, his body was covered in lean muscle, but Steve was suddenly very alarmed by the way Peter’s jeans looked on him, the way his t shirt seemed so loose in places. “Hey Queens, how are ya feeling?” Steve said cheerfully, trying to disguise his worry.

Peter turned and looked up at him with those big, wide brown eyes. “Oh, hi Captain Rogers, I’m feeling better for sure. Just really _hungry_ you know?”

Steve knew. Steve knew all about being hungry. Steve remembered the hunger he’d lived with his whole pre-war life, could still even feel it sometimes when he woke up from a deep sleep. But this hunger was not the hunger of poverty; Peter had a metabolism like Steve’s, and needed to eat extra, just like Steve did. He tried not to seem overbearing, he hated being fussed over and was sure Peter did too. They were both grown men with superpowers, after all. “Tell me about it,” Steve said. “I slept for two days after my interrogation with Fury and was worried I was going to put Tony in the poorhouse with all the takeout I’d ordered once I woke up.”

Peter stood up a little straighter, smiling softly. “I only slept about 8 hours, but yeah, I had the rest of your breakfast this morning, and I’ve already eaten an omelet and a sandwich for lunch, and I’m still so, so hungry.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “I keep telling Tony we need to have more food in the compound now that you’re here too, but he never listens. He eats even less than most people with regular metabolisms. Guys like you and me need to eat loads.”

“So what do you usually do, Captain Rogers?”

How long had Peter been calling him that? So formal. Way too formal. “Please, call me Steve. Want to know my secret?” Steve leaned in conspiratorially.

Peter grinned wide. “Sure, Steve.”

Steve shut the fridge door, caging Peter in accidentally with his arms. “Come on, get your shoes on.” Steve smiled, watching Peter salute awkwardly and run to his room. Peter was a good man, responsible, strong, and also (Steve had never noticed this before) happened to smell better than any 19 year old in history. Steve respected that level of self-care and maturity.

**

“Hey Bruce, I’m taking Peter out for a bite to eat. There’s not enough food in the compound and I figured some fresh air might do him some good. We’ll be back in a few hours and can do the check-up then,” Captain Rogers, no, Steve, said into his slim Starkphone.

“Sounds good, can you grab me something?” Bruce’s voice came through a little tinny over the speaker.

Steve winked at Peter, hurrying him to the hangar where Mr. Stark kept all his cars. “There’s not going to be any healthy curries or anything where we’re going, Doc, just classic diner food.”

“A tuna melt on rye would send me to heaven,” Peter could hear the fond annoyance in Dr. Banner’s voice— he was glad the team was finally really gelling. “And Peter, I’m sure you can hear this, don’t worry, we just want to make sure you’ve recovered from those drugs before we let you go back to training and patrol. Have a good lunch, you did great yesterday.”

“Thanks Dr. Banner!” Peter called out, doubling his steps to keep pace with Steve. Everyone was being so nice to him since he’d passed that test. Maybe it was because he’d proved how trustworthy he was. Everyone had stressed what a difficult test it was, and how often people didn’t pass on their first or even second attempts. It made Peter really feel like part of the team.

Peter had gotten off on such a weird foot with Captain America and had worried ever since about getting the iconic American hero to not just like him, but to respect him as a teammate. He hoped one day Steve would respect him as a peer, trust him like Mr. Stark had started to.

“Well Peter,” Steve said as they walked into the hangar, smiling wide and beautiful with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “I usually ride my motorcycle, but I doubt Stark would notice if we uh… borrow one of his cars.”

The thought of driving one of Mr. Stark’s fancy sports cars did appeal to Peter, but… “I’ve actually never ridden a motorcycle before,” he said hopefully. 

Steve tossed him a helmet, straddled the bike, and gestured for Peter to get on behind him.

“Hold on tight,” he said with another wink. Peter’s whole body went hot, but he did as he was told, wrapping his arms around the broad, muscled body of Captain freaking America, thrilling as the machine came to life between his legs and took them onto the highway.

**

Okay, maybe Steve shouldn’t have driven quite so fast, but it was Peter’s first time on a motorcycle, and it’s not like they wouldn’t both have healed up quickly from a mishap. Plus it was worth it to feel Peter squeeze tighter around his middle every time he accelerated, to see his teammate flushed pink, breathless with excitement once they’d dismounted the bike in the diner parking lot. It was worth it to hear, “that was fantastic, almost as good as web-slinging” and see the joy in Peter’s eyes once they sat down in a booth.

“Ugh, time to get to work boys, Hungry Steve is here.” Steve heard his favorite waitress before he saw her. “What do you want?” she asked grouchily, hands on her hips. Greta had to be at least 80, and stood a full 5 feet only if you counted the giant updo wig she always wore. She scowled at them both from behind big plastic bifocals.

“Two of the usual please Greta, it’s great to see you too!” Steve called out after her, but she’d already walked away.

Steve was ready to explain their dynamic to Peter, but he seemed unperturbed. Right. Of course. Peter had grown up a good Queens boy just like Steve had grown up a good Brooklyn boy. Of course Peter knew all about the casual friendships that developed with the characters and personalities of a neighborhood, something Tony, shielded by his privilege, would never be able to understand. Instead, Steve just smiled. “So web-slinging is better than the bike, huh? Now you’ve got me a little jealous.”

Peter’s eyes shot open. “Oh! Hmm, it might take you some practice, but I could make you a couple of web shooters on Mr. Stark’s 3D printer and show you how to use them. It’s not as fun out here though. I made them with the city in mind, but…” Peter looked up at Steve hopefully. “Maybe we could go into the city and I could show you some of my favorite views. If you want, I mean.”

Steve was moved by Peter’s generosity. He leaned back, stretching his arms out across the back of the vinyl seat. “Only if you let me show you how to ride my bike yourself and promise you’ll take it out sometimes. Fair is fair, Parker.”

Peter barked out a surprised laugh. “I- I would _love_ that.”

“So it’s a deal,” Steve offered his hand across the table.

Peter took it and shook. “It’s a deal.”

The only bad thing about their meal together was that watching Peter devour his stack of pancakes, cheeseburgers, corned beef hash and dozen scrambled eggs, not to mention sucking down not two, but three strawberry milkshakes made Steve kick himself for not inviting his friend sooner. He was mad at Stark too, though, he should have been feeding Peter better than this. Stark probably assumed that Peter would eat when he was hungry, just like Tony did, totally ignorant that guys like them weren’t raised that way.

Peter’s eyes widened in horror when Steve picked up the check, putting it all on his black card, but Steve did his best to calm him down. “Don’t worry Pete. I’m loaded. Howard Stark put a ton of Stark Industries stock in my name back in the 40s, and since I wasn’t exactly around to sell it…”

Peter still looked embarrassed, which was a feeling Steve knew and understood.

“How about this, in ten years, when you’re working and making a ton of money being a genius scientist, you can take me out for as many lunches as you want? Does that seem fair to you?”

Peter nodded and smiled. “Good plan.”

As they were leaving, Greta stopped them. “Hey, kid,” she said to Peter, “you got family keeping an eye on you?”

Peter furrowed his brow. “Uh, I’ve got an aunt?”

“Hm,” Greta considered that for a moment before looking up at Steve, her face souring. “Hungry Steve, if you break this kid’s heart, I’m going to hunt you down and bury you in my front garden. Under my roses.” She wagged her finger, then looked back at Peter, face softening again. “You’re a good boy,” she said, nodding and handing him a white box along with Bruce’s takeout bag. “If he doesn’t treat you right, you come find Greta, okay? I may be old but I’m a crack shot.”

Peter looked shocked, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Greta, if I break Peter’s heart, you’ll be the first to know.”

She nodded, then smiled the smallest, wrinkliest smile Steve had ever seen. “You be good, boys. The pie is on the house.”

Steve laughed as they walked outside. He laughed so hard that he bent over his bike, wiping tears from his eyes, sides hurting. “I’ve been coming here for _ages_  and have never gotten Greta to crack a smile, and you won her over in a single afternoon.”

Peter smiled a little, but still looked overwhelmed. “Does she think we’re _dating_?”

Steve shrugged, still laughing. His abs hurt. “I guess so?” He exhaled forcefully. “Hoo! Boy, okay. God I needed that.” He really had, was the thing. “Peter, thanks so much for this. I’d been cooped up in there for way too long and needed to unwind. You’re a lifesaver.”

They rode back slower than they’d come, but the feeling of acceleration and power between Steve’s legs, the calm and happiness in his heart, and the warm, surprisingly solid body hugging against him made Steve wonder… would it be so bad if they _were_ dating?

**

The checkup went well. Peter’s vitals were perfect, reflexes back to their normal, very impressive levels, and he seemed psychologically in great shape. Plus, how had Bruce ever worked in a lab without a panini press to reheat his takeout? He was getting spoiled. Peter and Steve seemed to be in a great mood after their lunch, and Bruce was glad to see it. Plus, Peter really seemed to be coming into his own, Bruce noticed, looking over the young man. Not only was he astonishingly powerful and physically gifted, he was a quick thinker with a good heart. He sent Peter on his way before settling in with some Hulk data from his own last testing session. 

Something was nagging at him, though. He sniffed the air. It wasn’t just the comforting smell of diner grease and french fries in there, it had been Peter. Peter smelled great in a way Bruce couldn't explain or describe. Was it some kind of cologne or body spray he was wearing? “FRIDAY, can you give me a chemical analysis of the air in this lab, please?” Sure, Bruce could have just asked Peter (maybe it was a shampoo or a body wash), but the hard data always provided more info than a brand name. 

“The chemical analysis has been delivered to your tablet, Dr. Banner,” the pleasant AI chirped back to him in no fewer than 10 seconds.

“Thank you FRIDAY,” Bruce murmured, pulling up the info just for fun and scanning it. 

And oh. Hm. That was weird. Probably nothing, but- “FRIDAY, I need all the air quality data from the last 48 hours.”

“From where, Dr. Banner?”

“Everywhere Peter Parker has been.” If he was right about this… 

“The information you’ve requested is not currently available. I can give you the readings from the room Peter is currently in, or I can attempt to piece together the data from cached logs, which will take quite a few hours, unfortunately.”

Bruce asked for both the readings from the kitchen and for FRIDAY to compile data from the last two days, focusing on the interrogation test. Peter was in the kitchen and the same chemicals were present there as the ones FRIDAY picked up in the lab reading. Nothing dangerous. It was just a hunch anyways.

He read up on spider pheromones for a few hours, but realized it'd been a minute since he’d last slept. Something like 1500 of them, actually.

“Wake me up in case a fight breaks out. Otherwise, just let me know when you’ve finished aggregating the data. Thanks.”

Bruce climbed onto the lab’s couch, managing to pull a throw blanket over himself before he let sleep take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no sex stuff in this chapter, but Steve is absolutely starting to get influenced and fucked up by Peter's "take care of me, like me, feed me" pheromones


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Peter are both still thinking about that free pie. Also, some other stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in end notes

Sated with that good, good, comforting grease that only great diner food could provide, and reassured by Dr. Banner and Steve that he’d fully recovered from his test, Peter made his way back to the kitchen to put away the pie that waitress had given him. At first he’d been embarrassed by her assumption that he was dating Captain America, but the warm way Steve smiled at him and laughed with him, the way his body felt against Peter’s… 

He’d never really thought about it before. Peter had always been team Iron Man. Having a crush on Captain America was such a cliché jock worship thing, after all. But the real Cap, the real Steve, was just a great guy. That didn’t mean Peter’s annoying crush on Mr. Stark had gone away, but maybe this was just a hazard of being a superhero and working alongside people who were insanely hot and kind and noble.

Peter opened the fridge and paused before putting the pie away. Maybe he’d just have a little slice… Steve and Dr. Banner had both said he needed to keep better track of his caloric intake, after all.

“I guess we were both thinking the same thing.” Steve’s voice came from right behind him. Peter turned around to find his teammate towering over him with that same warm, mischievous smile on his face. 

“I thought this pie was just for me,” Peter said playfully, hoping Steve couldn’t see the flush of heat Peter could feel rising to his skin from their closeness.

Steve put his hand on the white pie box, teasing, and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll wrestle you for it. Since Doc's cleared you for action, and all, Spider-Man. ” He voice was low and playful. It made Peter’s whole body feel hot and nervous. And then Steve’s smile turned big and goofy, the mood lifting. “Come on,” he said, taking the pie box and putting it on the counter. “I’ll heat up a couple of slices and you can look for vanilla ice cream in the freezer. I’m pretty sure we have some.”

This day with Steve had been a rollercoaster. Peter fished out the tub of ice cream from the freezer and watched Steve busy himself with plating the pie slices and putting them in the microwave. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt or what he wanted, but Steve seemed perfectly content to just do whatever, and that was comforting. All Peter had wanted since joining the Avengers was to feel like part of the team, to feel liked by these heroes who seemed so impossible to reach, and now he was finally really there.

They sat side by side at the kitchen island, and Peter couldn’t help but moan in happiness when the hot tart berry filling, flaky buttery crust and cold sweet ice cream hit his tongue.

“Good, right?” Steve grinned at him. 

Peter nodded. “Great call on the ice cream. This is the best.”

“Phew,” Steve breathed out a mock sigh of relief. “So I earned my keep and don’t have to feel guilty for stealing a slice of your pie.”

Peter laughed. “Thanks again for lunch.”

“My pleasure,” Steve shrugged before stuffing the rest of his pie and ice cream into his mouth. 

Peter giggled. For someone who was so famous for his self discipline and sacrifice and goodness, Steve Rogers seemed to be incapable of eating neatly. He had a big smear of blackberry and ice cream on his upper lip. “Uh Steve, you’ve got, uh…” Peter didn’t know what came over him, but instead of pointing on his own face, he reached out his thumb to wipe the sweet mess off Steve’s lip himself. The texture of Steve’s stubble and soft, smooth lip was a lot of sensory information for Peter’s hypersensitive thumb. He felt the breath catch in his throat, and wanted to let his thumb linger. Steve’s eyes found his, and then Steve’s hand was on Peter’s wrist, holding his hand there, guiding Peter’s thumb to the seam of his mouth and gently licking it clean.

Peter had been trying, desperately, desperately trying to suppress an erection on and off all day, but this was more than he could bear. He felt his cock throb and heard a whine escape his own lips. Steve’s eyes were dark and soft, his mouth wet and pliant, and all Peter wanted in the entire world was to kiss him, so he did.

**

Steve would have been happy to just be friends with Peter, to talk to him and get food with him, or even to extend their flirtation longer, but there was no denying the rush of hot relief and excitement that washed over him when Peter’s lips met his. Peter was just… perfect. It was insane to Steve that he’d never noticed before just how right they were for each other. Peter’s mouth slotted against his like a missing puzzle piece. Steve stood up from the barstool he’d been sitting on, spinning Peter to face him, pressing his body up against Peter’s. He groaned when he felt Peter hard on his leg, was sad the moment Peter broke the kiss, but then thrilled when Peter kissed down his face, his neck, his ear. “God,” Steve whispered. “God you’re perfect, you’re just perfect, Peter.”

Peter’s arms were around Steve’s shoulders and he was pulling them closer, lifting his hips off the barstool to try to get more pressure. Steve let his hands find Peter’s pert, tight little ass and lifted him. Peter made a sound halfway between a whine and a sigh, right against Steve’s ear, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and letting himself be lifted into Steve’s arms. Steve was sure he had never been this hard in his life. 

Nor had he ever been so happy in his life as he was when the tickle of Peter’s voice against his ear said “do you want to take me to your room?” Steve carried him there wordlessly, or maybe not, maybe he was murmuring more sweet nothings to this beautiful, beautiful young man. “FRIDAY, lock the door,” Steve said, closing his bedroom door behind him and depositing Peter onto his clean, neatly made bed. Before Steve could do or say anything, Peter was kicking off his shoes and pulling off his t-shirt. God… Steve had to grab himself through his own jeans at the sight of Peter, pink and hot, on Steve’s own bed. It was so right. Steve got rid of his shirt and shoes and jeans as quickly as he could, tripping over them on his way to the bed. Peter’s skin was so smooth, so soft. Steve let his hands explore the lean, tight muscle of Peter’s chest and stomach, kissing his neck and collarbone. Peter responded to every light touch by writhing and moaning, gasping and grinding his hips into the air. “Steve, please,” he whined, when Steve’s fingertips brushed against the waistband of his jeans. Those jeans that had so worried Steve just earlier that day. Steve unbuttoned and unzipped them gently, not wanting to hurt Peter’s tender, hard cock, which Steve realized in that moment was the most precious thing in the world to him. Steve didn’t know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but he found himself nosing and sniffing at Peter’s tented boxers, drooling uncontrollably, stroking himself through his own underwear. Steve couldn’t think straight— he just wanted. He wanted so, so badly.

Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes when his lips met the smooth, perfect, flushed skin of Peter’s cock. He breathed in deep, and with every breath his body was simultaneously more relaxed and more excited, more confused and desperate and sure that this was exactly what he was put on this earth to do. Peter, poor, sweet, sensitive Peter, was shivering and whining. “You’re so beautiful, Peter,” Steve said, gripping the young man’s hand and stroking tender, comforting circles into it with his thumb. “You’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect.” Steve licked a line up Peter’s cock, rejoicing when he finally, finally reached the head, which was already wet with precome, and with a silent prayer let his lips wrap around it and sink down. Steve groaned involuntarily at the taste, the smell, the feeling, the rightness and hotness of all of it.

“Oh God, oh Steve, I’m gonna-“ Peter’s hips stuttered and he shot off into Steve’s mouth. Steve could have sworn the sweet stickiness was Peter’s goodness itself. It didn’t occur to his sex-addled brain to question why Peter’s come would taste like bravery and kindness. Peter urged him up for a kiss, hands reaching for Steve’s own erection. “I want to touch you,” Peter said, eyes wide and earnest. “I want to make you feel good, Steve. I wanna be good for you…”

The words made Steve’s heart swell and cock twitch.

“You’re so gorgeous, Peter,” Steve murmured, petting his face, sliding a fingertip down Peter’s cheekbone. “You’re already so good. I can’t imagine you being more good.” 

Peter, still on his back, looked up at Steve, lips parted and eyes wide, breath coming fast. “Let me touch you, please, please Steve.”

Steve couldn’t deny such a polite request asked so sweetly. He kissed Peter again before lying down next to him, putting his hands over his head and grabbing the bars of his headboard. “Okay Peter, I’m yours.”

Peter’s touch was unsure at first, but he gained confidence, sitting next to Steve with his legs curled under him, running his hands up Steve’s arms, down his chest, exploring. Steve didn’t want to close his eyes, didn’t want to miss a second of Peter’s curious, awestruck, beautiful faces, the way he silently mouthed “wow” to himself. Steve wanted to look at Peter for the rest of his life. When Peter was distracted by Steve’s quads, Steve sneakily grabbed Peter’s abandoned boxers from the other side of the bed, tucking them between his head and the pillowcase. He took a deep breath of that intoxicating Peter smell, and as Peter’s long fingers finally dipped below the waistband of his briefs, Steve was sure he’d be fine with dying right then and there.

**

Peter was face to face with Captain America’s, huge, hard, throbbing dick. It wasn’t technically red white and blue, but as Peter put his hand around it, he felt like it might as well be. A pulse of precome oozed out of Steve's slit, and Peter dipped down to taste it. Steve sobbed at the touch. Peter wasn’t a total innocent, but he was pretty inexperienced with sex, and no one he’d ever fooled around with before had been as into him as Steve. It was flattering and hot, and Peter wondered if maybe it was a superhero thing, like how his own enhanced senses made him fall apart so easily. It was so hot though to see Steve Rogers (!!!!) like this. Peter wanted to do everything to Steve. He wanted Steve to do everything to him. Peter could feel himself getting hard again, and cursed his own horniness. Steve had done so much for him all day. Steve had done so much for everyone. Steve deserved to relax and be taken care of for once, right? It was Steve’s turn to feel good. He was pretty sure Steve was feeling good… Peter could see his muscles tensing as he gripped the headboard, red and blushing all over, eyes half open.

“You’re so sexy, Steve,” Peter said, a little unsure, slowly jacking him. “Plus you’re an amazing person, and you’re fun to hang out with.” As usual, once Peter had started talking, he couldn’t really stop. Steve’s hips were moving gently with the rhythm of Peter’s hand though, so that was good. “I like you so much, Steve. You made me feel so good, so I want you to feel good too, okay? Because you deserve to feel good. Because you _are_ good, you know? You’re so good, and god, Steve. I wish you could see yourself right now, because you look incredible.” Peter reached his other hand out to touch Steve’s chest, and brushed a fingertip experimentally across a light pink nipple. He was rewarded with a groan and another spurt of precome. It was tough to decide whether he wanted to lick up the precome or get his mouth on Steve’s nipple, but his body decided for him, thumb sliding over the head of Steve’s cock and mouth descending onto Steve’s chest. He didn’t mean to rub his dick against Steve’s side, it just happened. And Peter almost cried from the loss of Steve’s gorgeous nipple in his mouth when Steve sat up. 

“Fuck, you’re hard again…” Steve looked wrecked and hungry and messed up, and, FUCK!! _Captain America_ saying a cuss word because he was so turned on by something _Peter_ did was more than Peter could take.

“Uh-huh,” was all Peter could manage to gasp out before he was being bodily lifted onto Steve’s lap.

“Need you,” Steve said, pulling Peter close to him and taking both of them in his hand. “Need this.”

Peter reached down too, leaning forward so they could kiss, and they quickly found a rhythm. Steve’s huge dick against Peter’s was somehow both hot and humiliating at the same time. Steve made Peter feel so small, but just as Peter was thinking that, Steve broke their kiss and whispered, “you’re so perfect, look how perfectly you fit with me. Look how good we slot together. Your cock was made for this, for me.” 

Peter didn’t think he could blush any harder, but Steve was testing him. The feeling of their cocks sliding together, leaking and slippery, was already so much, but Steve kept moving away from Peter’s lips to whisper things to him, hot and strained in his ear, like it hurt him to talk:

“You’re so good, Peter. You’re so sexy, do you see what you’re doing to me? You’re driving me crazy, I need you so bad. You’re being so good for me. I want to fuck you, Peter. I want to make every part of you mine. Are you gonna come for me, baby? I want you to come all over me.”

The answer to the last one was yes, and Peter nodded, managing another high pitched whine of a “uh-huhhn.” 

Steve managed to smile that warm, beautiful, sweet smile, and kissed Peter again. “Okay baby, let’s come together, okay? Come for me, beautiful. Come for me, my perfect boy.” And then Peter was crashing through another orgasm, hands useless by his sides, drunk on the feeling of Steve pulsing and twitching against him, his big hand stroking them both through it, painting them both white.

Steve fell back onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. His stomach and chest were _covered_ in come. Before Peter could apologize, Steve was lazily running his finger through their combined mess and bringing it to his lips. “Mmm,” he hummed, contented, and pulled Peter into his arms with a soft “c’mere.” The last thing Peter did before passing out in Captain America’s arms was do his best to wipe up their mess with the pair of boxers he’d already ruined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the sex stuff starts. Peter _doesn't know_ he's emitting sex pheromones, but he is, and they're increasingly powerful. Steve is down but not fully in control of himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets concerned when it's 11 am and Captain America still hasn't shown up for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in end notes

“FRIDAY, what is Peter doing?” Tony asked, slightly annoyed, taking a long drink of coffee.

“Peter Parker is taking his morning shower, Mr. Stark.”

That was weird. Peter usually beat Tony to the kitchen for breakfast, and it was already 11. And where was Rogers? He was always up at the crack of dawn to eat three cartons of eggs and go jogging and do all the dishes. But there were two dirty plates left out. Cap never would have let that happen. Tony kinda hoped he’d get to see whoever was responsible get chewed out for it, since for once it wasn’t him.

“Is Captain Rogers around?” He asked, picturing Steve’s disappointed huff at the dirty dishes.

“Captain Rogers is on the property but he is not yet awake,” the AI answered.

That’s unusual. “Is he okay?”

“Captain Rogers’ health vitals seem normal, but his behavior has been somewhat erratic, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Hmm, okay, I’m going to go check on him. He’s in his room, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

That wasn’t good. The last time Steve was behaving erratically, it had almost torn the Avengers apart permanently.Tony knocked on his door. “Hey Steve, open up.”

No response. He tried the door. Locked. “FRIDAY can you override the lock, please? I’m concerned.”

Tony heard the mechanical sound of the door unlocking and let himself in. The first thing Tony noticed was how good it smelled in Steve’s room, really good. Fuck. The second thing Tony noticed was that there were dirty clothes on the floor. Not a lot, but enough to make him worry. The third thing he noticed was that it smelled, so, so good in that room. Tony closed the door behind him so he could just sit in that smell. Wow. Then he noticed Steve, passed out on the bed, nude and with a hard-on.

Which, wow. He should probably ask FRIDAY what was going on, why the air smelled so sweet, and also of sex? Yeah, sex. Definitely sex. But Tony decided to check on Steve first (and get closer to whatever smelled so good, was it Steve??) He sat down on the bed next to his unconscious teammate, brushing his hand across the man’s face to feel for a fever. “Steve? You okay buddy?”

Steve stirred, leaning into Tony’s touch. He didn’t feel feverish, just warm the way someone is warm when they first wake up. Tony carded his fingers through Steve’s hair, trying not to startle him. “Buddy, wake up. Are you feeling okay?” Steve’s eyes opened,

“Oh god, Tony,” Steve groaned.

“Hey, hey, Cap, what’s wrong pal? Tell me what’s going on?”

Steve bit his lip and arched his back, grabbing what Tony had assumed was just regular morning wood, but now seemed like something to worry about. God, though. Steve was gorgeous. Tony had obviously always known that, had whacked off to his Captain America trading cards as a kid like everyone else, but… watching him sleepily jerking himself off like this was a lot.

Wait, why was he there again? “FRIDAY, is this the kind of erratic behavior you were talking about?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark. This is more or less what I was referring to.”

Steve moaned, starting to really stroke himself in earnest. “Oh god, did FRIDAY see everything? Did I forget to turn off security cameras?”

“That’s correct, Captain Rogers. My apologies.”

“Itsok, Tony…” The look in Steve’s eyes was desperate and scared. “God, Tony, please.” 

Tony needed to get Steve to medical, needed to get him into quarantine. Needed to see if whatever was happening to Steve was contagious, or if he’d been drugged. He hadn’t noticed the sound of the water running, nor did he notice the sound of the water turning off. What he did notice, though, was Peter Parker walking into the room in only a towel. 

“Mr. Stark! What are you doing in here?” Peter said, clearly startled and scared.

Steve sat up immediately, smiling. “Peter!”

“Peter?” And before Tony could ask Peter what he was doing in there, what was going on, if Steve was okay, he found himself standing up and walking over to wrap the kid in a hug. “Shhh, hey, it’s okay. Everything is fine.”

“So you’re not disgusted by me or… or ashamed?” Peter looked terrified. His lip was quivering. The sight broke Tony’s heart. 

“No, never. That couldn’t… Jesus, kid, how could you think that? That couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re perfect, and I’m so proud of you, and there’s nothing disgusting about you. You’re beautiful.” Tony never meant to say all his feelings like that, but… disgust? Shame? Peter needed to know that wasn’t true.

“Peter, you’re so good,” Steve had walked over to them too, no longer in the grips of whatever sex fever was messing him up. That was good, he and Tony needed to be there for Peter right now. He took Peter’s hand. “You’re amazing. We’re all so proud of you, and so happy you’re on the team with us.”

Tony nodded, agreeing, walking Peter over to the bed and sitting down with him. “Steve’s right. We’re a family.” He pet his hand up and down Peter’s wet, exposed back.

“And we love you Peter,” Steve had sat down on the other side of Peter, his hand on Peter’s knee. “We love you so much.”

Peter shivered and bit his lip. “Uh… thanks, guys.” 

Tony looked at Steve and Peter, and he understood what was going on. “Peter, you’re an adult, you can have sex with any consenting adults you want. I would never be disgusted or ashamed of you. You’re amazing. You’re incredible.”

Peter blushed hard, clearly embarrassed.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you’re gorgeous. You’re incredibly sexy,” the words were just spilling out of Tony’s mouth and Steve nodded along, agreeing. “Steve, you’re a lucky guy.” Tony’s hand was trying to work out some tension he’d found in Peter’s neck, but touching his skin felt so good. And there was that smell again, that gorgeous, intoxicating smell. Of course, it was Peter. Tony remembered now. That was Peter’s smell. He let his finger trace the shell of the kid’s ear, and he whimpered.

“Oh god,” Peter sounded so distressed, so high pitched, and so hot.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed. “God, baby it’s okay. You can have this. You can have whatever you want.”

Peter turned to look at Tony, eyes dark and wide and nervous, lips parted, breathing heavy. It was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen. “Mr. Stark, I…”

“Anything, Peter. I’ll give you-“ before Tony could say that second “anything,” their lips had met. Tony was suddenly so hard, harder than he’d ever been in his life. But also, more importantly, he was kissing Peter. He was kissing Peter fucking Parker, the most beautiful, brilliant, kind, big-hearted man in the universe. Peter was like a son to him, and he was licking into his mouth, but it was okay because nothing in Tony’s entire miserable life had ever felt so right. And then Steve put his hand on Tony’s hand, and that felt even more right. Tony Stark was the luckiest, happiest man to ever live.

**

“Dr. Banner, I’m sorry to interrupt your sleep, but-“

Bruce sat up with a start. “Wh-a what time is it?”

“It is noon, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce felt completely discombobulated. “Are the uh, do you have the data for me?”

“Not all of it, but I thought I should wake you, sir… There is a bit of a… situation.”

Oh no. Bruce was right and Peter was producing some kind of aggressor pheromone. He had to get this fixed, fast. He stood up, looking for where he’d kicked his shoes off in his sleep. “What’s going on? Can you give me eyes on Parker please?”

“Unfortunately, no, Dr. Banner. You do not have proper clearance, unfortunately. Certain uh… aspects of the situation at hand have placed it into the most secure classification, and as such, I cannot show you, or even tell you specifically, what is happening.”

“Ugh, okay. Is anyone in any immediate danger?”

“No.” 

Bruce was tremendously relieved to hear that.  “Okay, who is involved, where are they, and can you give me a readout of what the air is like in the relevant location?”

“Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers and Mr. Parker are in Captain Rogers’ bedroom. The readout has been sent to your tablet.”

Bruce found his glasses and his tablet, and began quickly scanning through the data looking for any of the chemicals he’d been researching. “Um,” he spotted one, but the quantities looked impossible. “Is this a mistake?”

“The readings have been checked 1000 times for perfect accuracy, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce felt a huge, panicked lump in his throat forming. “FRIDAY, this looks like a mutation of an arachnid sex hormone in quantities that look legitimately dangerous.”

“Oh,” the AI said.

“FRIDAY?”

“That, uh, explains a lot, sir.”

“Oh my god.”

**

Peter knew he wasn’t dreaming, not just because years of nightmares taught him to tell the difference between dreams and reality, but also because he’d never in his life had a dream this good. He was kissing Tony Stark, and Tony Stark was kissing him. And god, that had to be Steve kissing his neck, hand on his chest. Peter was rock hard under his towel, again. How many times had he come last night? He’d lost count. Every time he got hard, Steve was there to stroke him through it, to suck him, to kiss him and touch him. He’d never really tested how many times he could come in a day— being kind of busy being Spider-Man and all. Mr. Stark pulled away, looking into Peter’s eyes and… all Peter had ever wanted was for Mr. Stark to look at him that way. 

“Mr. Stark, I- I’ve wanted this for so- you have no idea.” Peter stuttered.

“It’s okay, baby, we’re all here now,” Steve said, petting Peter’s hair and leaning in to kiss… Mr. Stark? Oh, oh wow. Peter could feel his dick twitch watching these two incredibly handsome, brilliant, wonderful men locking lips right in front of his face. Then Steve turned to kiss Peter, and Mr. Stark was kissing Peter’s ear, whispering to him. “You’re so sexy, Peter. I’m so proud of you, kid.” Steve kissed down Peter’s neck so softly that it tickled, and Peter arched his back, groaning involuntarily. Mr. Stark guided him onto his side. “That’s it, my good boy.” While Steve continued kissing down Peter’s chest and stomach, Mr. Stark kissed Peter, pet his hair. It was so soothing, so kind, so tender. Peter had never imagined that Mr. Stark would be so tender. 

“Mr. Stark, sir,” Peter whined while his mentor ghosted touches up and down his spine, Steve still kissing his hip bones and thighs. 

“You can call me Tony, if you want. I never understood why you don’t,” Mr. Stark, Tony, said, smiling. 

Peter blushed. “I like calling you Mr. Stark. I like calling you sir.”

Mr. Stark smiled, but his eyes looked so intense, almost sad. “You can call me anything you want. Like I said, you can have anything. I’ll give you anything.”

“You can also call me anything you want,” Steve chimed in, stopping kissing Peter’s leg for a moment.

“Well, I mean, there’s something,” the words came out of Peter’s mouth without his permission. Oh goddd, this was too embarrassing. Peter clamped his eyes shut, feeling the full body blush taking over.

And then Steve and Mr. Stark were sandwiching him again, both kissing his face and neck and ears. “Anything,” they both said. He couldn’t tell who was saying what. It was all too overwhelming. “Anything, baby. We’ll give you whatever you want.” The feeling of Steve Rogers, tall and built, completely naked on one side, and Tony Stark, fully clothed on the other, both kissing him, both touching him, both whispering in his ears, was too much. Peter felt the tears welling up in his eyes, his cock twitching, dying, desperate to be touched.

“Please,” Peter babbled. “Please please please.”

Hands on his front, in his hair, voices in his ears saying “god Peter anything for you Peter so proud of you baby so good for us so so good for us we’re a family Peter you made us whole Peter we love you sweet boy brave boy we love you Peter” and finally, finally, a calloused hand wrapped around Peter’s cock. “so sweet Peter such a good boy so sexy like this anything you want I’ll buy it I’ll bring it to you anything just ask baby boy, anything”

“Mr. Sta- Ste- Sirs, sirs I’m gonna- I’m gonna.”

“That’s it honey, that’s it Peter, god you’re gorgeous like this, wish you could see yourself, wish we could show you how good you are, love you Peter, love you, love you.”

Peter felt himself toppling over the edge. “Daddy, please,” he sobbed, coming hard, that calloused hand stroking him through it, another on his nipple, another holding him firmly against the bed while he convulsed, and the last one gently petting his hair. He fell apart, held safe and tight by the two men he trusted and looked up to most in the world.

“I love you Peter, I really, really do,” Mr. Stark murmured. “I love you too Steve.”

And as Steve and Mr. Stark embraced, the chaos began. Out of nowhere, an Iron Man suit was encasing Peter, pulling him out of the bedroom, no no no, down the stairs and into the med lab. What?

What? What the fuck?

**

One moment, Tony was stroking Peter to orgasm while Peter called him Daddy, kissing Steve and feeling so whole, so good, so safe, finally home. And the next, Peter was gone, Bruce was there in the Hulkbuster suit, talking to FRIDAY about cleaning the air, and then…

Oh fuck.

Tony.

What did you do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dubcon Dubcon Dubcon Dubcon. The most dub of con is in this chapter.
> 
> Steve is completely fucked up on pheromones and could maybe MAYBE? get control of himself if he knew it was happening. Tony succumbs quickly and they're both pretty much totally at the mercy of Peter's insecurities and horniness.
> 
> Notes from me, the author: this is a really mean place to stop, but I promise it's all going to work out. I promise!!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exposition, meetings, and pasta, plus shame, a lot of shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no sex stuff in this chapter but content warnings in the end notes all the same

Bruce had given Tony and Steve chances to shower before calling them into the conference room. When they walked in, he was finishing a holo call with Fury.

“I can’t say I’m relieved to hear it, but I’m somewhat relieved to hear it. At least we have an answer now. And with what you’re telling me he’s capable of, we’re very lucky the worst thing that happened was me getting a little scared.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said sheepishly. Tony relaxed a little that Bruce hadn't given Fury the whole story.

“If Parker can learn to get control over it, this has huge implications for the Avengers, especially you, Dr. Banner.”

“I know, sir. Peter is a smart kid, I think we’ll be able to work this out.”

“I guess I should be thanking whoever encouraged him to study biochemistry. Okay, I’ll keep this under wraps and let you all handle it. As far as SHIELD is concerned, Parker passed the test and that’s all there is to it. Let me know if there’s anything we can help with in getting this squared away. Fury out.”

Tony, Steve, and Bruce all sat down, and Tony was horrified to see that Steve looked even more depressed and ashamed than Tony did. Bruce spoke first. “FRIDAY, can we get Peter on the line, please? I figured we should probably all have this incredibly awkward conversation together before the others get back.”

A holo appeared of Peter, sitting on the floor of the biolab Bruce had turned into a makeshift quarantine, dressed, thankfully, but with his arms wrapped around his knees. He had clearly been crying.

“Peter, how are you feeling?” Bruce asked gently.

“Um, pretty terrible? But I can talk. Can you explain what’s going on, please?”

Bruce sighed. “Okay, I think I have it more or less figured out. Peter, you got your powers when you were bitten by a radioactive spider. We all know that. What your powers are: the healing, your excellent sight and hearing, your sixth sense for danger, your tactile sensitivity, your agility, the way you can climb walls, those we’ve been figuring out as we go along. It was helpful that most of them manifested immediately. It shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise, though, that there are more.”

Steve interrupted. “So you’re saying Peter has some kind of power to destroy inhibitions or self-control? It wasn’t mind control. I know Peter, and I know mind control. And this wasn’t that.”

“Oh god,” Peter groaned to himself miserably.

“Not exactly,” Bruce continued, “it’s-“

“Pheromones, of course,” Tony blurted out. He should have figured that out. In retrospect, it was so obvious. “That’s why he smelled so good. That’s how he scared Fury shitless. God, I was so stupid not to see it.”

“Exactly,” Bruce said. “Not about the stupid part, I mean, just the two before it. I only figured it out because I wanted to know why Peter smelled so good and had FRIDAY run an air test on the lab. I just thought it’d mean a run to Duane Reade so I could buy a bottle of his shampoo for myself. It was a complete accident. I never would have thought of pheromones.”

Steve nodded. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“I’m confused,” Peter chimed in. “I’ve had pheromones this whole time, or- oh- ohhhh… do you think it could have been triggered by Director Fury’s hallucinogen? That happens all the time with psychedelic drugs and latent brain disorders, but this isn’t really that.”

Bruce took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “That’s the uh, that’s kind of my working theory. Now that we know about it, FRIDAY has automated air tests in any room you’re in to go off every few minutes, so we should get a full list of your basic range within probably a couple of days?”

Tony had walked into the meeting wanting to die, but looking at Peter, he didn’t know what he wanted. Even no longer under the influence of Peter’s pheromones, Tony still wanted to fix this for the kid, protect him from everything in the world that could ever harm him. But, when he thought about it, he’d never really not felt that way, had he?

“Okay,” Peter said sadly. “The good news is that I can probably synthesize something to neutralize them with once I have that information. The bad news is that I have to quit the Avengers.”

“What!?” Tony, Steve and Bruce spoke simultaneously. 

“Peter, don’t be ridiculous," Tony continued. "We’ve figured out the problem and a solution.”

“I agree with Stark, Peter, if anyone has the brains to fix this, it’s you.” Steve smiled that warm, encouraging smile, and if that didn’t work on Peter, nothing would.

“Um, I appreciate that you guys, but I sexually assaulted Captain America and Iron Man. Like… it is very clear to me and should be clear to you too that I can’t be an Avenger anymore.”

Tony tried to say “kid, that was far from sexual assault,” at the same time as Steve was saying something like “you weren’t in control of yourself, it was an accident and no one got hurt,” at the same time as Bruce started saying “I can’t imagine how you must feel right now.” And then they all stopped talking and waited for one of them to step in.

“You didn’t do anything on purpose, Peter,” Steve said, painfully earnest, as always. “And Tony and I are fine. We’re safe. Embarrassed, sure, but safe. This hurt you more than either of us.”

“But-“ Peter started to protest.

Very uncharacteristically, Bruce interrupted. “I can’t relate exactly to how you feel, but I know a lot about my body wreaking havoc on my surroundings without my permission or knowledge.” He had a point. “This isn’t your fault, Peter, and it’s a problem that you are perfectly equipped to solve.” 

Peter made one of those big eyed faces Tony knew always meant frustration and petulant bullshit. “How is this not my fault? _My_ body literally produced chemicals that turned Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark into my… into my, you know…” He lowered his voice, looking at the floor, clearly embarrassed at having to say what he was saying. “Sex slaves.”

“I flirted with Peter,” Steve turned to Bruce, visibly tense. “The pheromones might have encouraged some of it, but I escalated it and forced Peter’s body into overdrive. This was my fault. I started it. I take responsibility for this.”

“Nah, sorry Cap, I can’t accept that. Sorry Banner, sorry Rogers, sorry Peter.” Tony paused. “ _Especially_ sorry to you, Peter, but this one is on me. Steve, if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me, since this is my fault. Bruce, please let’s not tell the others about this whole ordeal because we’re all beyond humiliated. Peter, work on the formula to neutralize your smell, you’re not quitting the Avengers. And that’s final. Good? Good.” He got up from the table, not waiting for an answer. “We’ll reconvene later. I have work to do.”

**

The hologram went dead and Peter was in the quarantined lab, alone except for DUM-E, the stack of equipment Bruce had brought in for him to work with, and more humiliation and shame than he’d ever thought was possible for one person to carry. Peter wished he was dead. Peter wished he’d never been born. All that stuff about power and responsibility? He’d really fucked that up, and badly. He was just grateful Dr. Banner had saved Tony and Steve before it was too late. All he’d ever wanted was to be helpful and accepted, and he was really stupid enough to think… 

Peter felt sick. The worst part was that even now, thinking back, the memories of Steve and Tony holding him, touching him, kissing him, telling him they loved him made Peter feel the same heat and desire, just twisted up with something new and ugly and awful. He felt like a monster, but no amount of shame could make his skin forget the feeling of Tony’s mouth against it, no amount of shame could keep the blood from filling Peter’s dick every time a tremor of a memory hit him. More tears started falling down his face, fat and hot and stupid.

He would just have to work. He would just have to not think about it, not remember anything, and lose himself in fixing this problem. Isn’t that what Mr. Stark always did? Peter would just do that. He would fix this and make himself safe enough to be out in the world, and then get far, far away from the Avengers. They’d be better off without him anyways.

**

Bruce felt pretty stupid. He'd thrown together a pot of carbonara for Peter, planning to just have one of Stark's little bots take it in, but then... If anyone was going to talk to Peter about being betrayed by their own bodies, shouldn't it be Bruce? So he borrowed one of the less intimidating Iron Man suits to bring Peter the food himself. He tried to knock gently, but loud clang of steel on steel made him recoil reflexively. So much for being smooth. There was no answer, so he let himself inside. Peter was still on the floor, looking like he'd barely moved except to grab a tablet to start taking notes.

“Um, hi Peter, I’m really sorry about all of this,” Bruce stammered, closing the door behind him and trying to walk into the room as gracefully as he could. “I brought you something to eat.”

Peter looked up at him wordlessly with red, puffy eyes, but took the pasta from him all the same. Good. Okay. Nice call Banner. Now the hard part.

Bruce looked for a place to sit down, opting for the floor, getting down cross-legged across from Peter. “Listen,” he started.

“Are you here to give me the monster version of the birds and the bees?” Peter’s voice was flat.

Well that cut right to the chase. “I mean, more or less? But also no. But also, kind of, yeah.”

“No offense, you know,” Peter added a little softly.

“None taken. Why don’t you finish your food first? I can wait.”

Peter nodded and proceeded to demolish the “family of 8” recipe Bruce had prepared. “Thanks. Sorry. I should have said thanks before. But thanks. And uh… thanks for earlier also.” Peter visibly grimaced. “So what do you have for me? Because this isn’t normal, I’m not like every other kid, and it’s not okay to feel the ways I feel.” He got stuck on that last part like every word was a fresh hurt. Which, yeah, Bruce could relate to that.

“I know it’s no consolation, but I’m so sorry this has to be a part of your life now. And I’m sorry we can’t have this conversation face to face. You deserve a face to face conversation.”

Peter looked up at Bruce with wide, horrified eyes. “I hadn’t even thought of what I could have done to _you_.”

Bruce shrugged, the suit probably didn't. “Honestly, it probably would have been okay. You technically did hit me with some pheromones, like I said before. I really just thought you smelled great and were shaping up into an excellent Avenger.”

Peter cringed, clearly already jumping to conclusions.

“No, no. I _already_ thought you were shaping up into an excellent Avenger, though. Everyone did. Everyone _does_. I’d just never noticed how you smelled before because before you didn’t really smell like anything.”

“Okay…” Peter still looked like he wanted to die.

“You hit Stark and Rogers and Fury with much larger quantities of pheromones than you did me, which, yes, is probably a good thing. Especially in Fury’s case. The Hulk would _not_ have liked feeling afraid.” Oh no, wrong thing to say.

“I could have gotten us all killed! Oh my god… you’re right.”

“We all could get us all killed literally at any time every day. That’s our lives. That’s what being an Avenger is.” None of this was helping. “None of this is helping, is it?”

“Sorry Dr. Banner, but… no.” Peter managed to look somehow even more uncomfortable than he had when Bruce walked in. “I mean, how do you do it? It got explained to me when I first joined the team, but like, how do you live like that? How do you exist as a person around other people when you know if you slip up with something as uncontrollable as your _emotions_ , someone could get seriously, seriously hurt?”

It would have felt like a punch to the gut if Bruce hadn’t been asked that by everyone who got a taste of understanding what being the Hulk _really_ meant. Even so, it never felt great. But that’s what he’d come in there for, right? “First of all, I’m not 19, which helps _a lot_.”

Peter rolled his eyes. It was subtle, but Bruce caught it.

“Mostly though I just had to change what it meant to be Bruce Banner. I had to become a stronger person. I had to give up on a lot of things, too.”

Peter’s face fell at that, but Bruce continued on. 

“Peter, there’s an excellent chance you can deal with this in ways other than willpower. It’s not the same as my thing. But…” He wanted to smile encouragingly in that warm, lovely way Steve always did. He opted for trying to do an open, encouraging gesture with his hands. “I came in here to talk to you because I’m your worst case scenario. It’s not something I would wish on anyone, but, I guess I just wanted to say that it’s not hopeless either.”

Peter didn’t say anything, but Bruce wanted to say that he looked a tiny bit less miserable.

“I’d offer you a hug but I’m not good enough with this thing yet,” Bruce quipped, shakily getting to his feet.

“Thanks Dr. Banner,” Peter nodded. “Thanks for the pasta, too. I’m going to keep working.”

Bruce grabbed the empty pot and waved. “Let me know if you want any help.” He felt almost proud of himself.

**

Bruce dropped an empty pot into the kitchen sink with a sigh. Steve couldn’t tell how their talk had gone. Bruce was taking off his glasses and rubbing that space between his eyes, but he always did that. 

“Do you want me to get that?” Steve offered, desperate to help somehow.

“Thanks, yeah,” Bruce collapsed onto a barstool. “Processing emotions with teenagers is _exhausting_. I think I got through to him though. A little bit.”

Steve forced his hands to stop tensing up, worried he’d accidentally bend the cast iron cookware he was holding. Dish soap first, warm water. He already felt better. “How does he seem to you?”

“Not great, but not as bad as he was, I think? He’s pretty messed up though about it. We had a talk about having superpowers that hurt people when we lose control of our emotions. I think we bonded.”

The food hadn’t really had time to cake onto the pan, and Steve wiped away the grime easily with a soft sponge. “Did Peter really hurt anyone, though? Except himself, and I guess Fury’s pride?”

“Steve?”

Steve didn’t look up at him, just rinsed out the pot. It felt heavy and expensive, strong. He dried it with a dish towel, already clean again.

“Steve?” Bruce repeated. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Peter is blaming himself for something I did, so no, I’m not feeling great, Bruce. I’m feeling guilty and embarrassed and worried and… God, I could kick myself!” Steve turned to face Bruce, letting his fist fall onto the counter as gently as he could manage while still getting his point across.

Bruce stared at him, eyes as big as Steve had ever seen them. “Okay, but? Do you want me to call in a counselor or somebody? I know Tony said he wanted us to keep this quiet, and I agree, broadly, but if you need to talk to Barnes or Wilson, they’re your support system. I mean-“

“Why is everyone so worried about me? Peter is the nineteen year old kid who just had a night of sexual experiences under what he now thinks were false pretenses and is stuck isolated from his team when he needs our support the most.”

“Okay, but are you sure that you’re…“ Bruce trailed off, clearly uncomfortable.

This was stupid. Now that he knew about the pheromones, Steve would be able to resist their effects. Maybe Peter could figure out how to turn them off. Either way, Steve got them into this mess, and he was going to get them out of it.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked, clear concern in his voice watching Steve leave the room.

“You need pheromone data, right? I’m going to get as much as you need.”

Steve half expected Bruce to stop him, but the doctor didn’t even stand up. All Steve heard as he left the kitchen was a beleaguered “what happened to helping me avoid stressful situations?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for a ton of shame, embarrassment, self-loathing, self-blame, that kind of stuff.
> 
> sorry this isn't the most exciting chapter. back to the good shit next time, I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> never send a soldier to do a scientist's job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a long fluffy porny chapter to make up for what a bad time everyone had in the last chapter, and finally some solid starker. 
> 
> not a ton of warnings but I'll put specifics in end notes. pretty clear consent in this chapter. also sorry about my very elementary knowledge of brain chemistry!!!

Peter didn’t feel better, per se, after talking to Dr. Banner, but he also didn’t feel worse. His thoughts were a lot clearer after the meal, though, which meant his preliminary note taking stage was going a lot better. A few of his ideas were promising, and more than a few seemed kind of far fetched, but at least he was in familiar territory, more or less.

When he heard another knock on the door, he figured it would be Dr. Banner again, or maybe a drone, so he was surprised when 1. the door didn’t open, and 2. FRIDAY’s voice was the one that spoke. “I’m sorry Captain Rogers, but I can’t let you into the quarantined area without protection.” Steve was at his door.

Oh god, Captain Rogers had told him to call him Steve when he’d been under the pheromone influence. Captain Rogers, Captain Rogers, Captain Rogers. Not Steve. A frisson of guilt ran through Peter, feeling betrayed by his own mind.

“No, _I’m_ very sorry, ma’am, but I need to talk to Peter. I have security clearance to bypass quarantines if I choose, and I choose to exercise that privilege at this time.”

“Wait!” Peter ran to the door, grateful for the manual bolt. “Captain, you can’t come in here.”

“Of course I can come in. I have security clearance and I’m perfectly capable of just breaking down the door with my fists. Peter, I need to talk to you. I think you’ve got the wrong idea about what happened last night and really feel I should clarify things.”

Peter sank to the floor, mortified. The last thing he needed was Captain America explaining that what they’d shared hadn’t actually been real and Peter shouldn’t get his hopes up. Or letting him down easy. Either option was terrible. “Th-thanks, Cap, but um, I don’t need it spelled out for me, I understand you weren’t in control of yourself and,” oh god. He felt his face getting hot. “And that it’s not going to happen again, or whatever.”

“Peter,” Steve, no, Captain Rogers was starting to say something in a sad, reasonable tone, and Peter really couldn’t deal with that.

“No, thanks. It’s crystal clear, sir. I just need to get this work done, so um. Thanks? I guess? For stopping by?” Great. Fucking nailed it Parker.

“No, Peter, I don’t think _you_ understand. You didn’t—“ Peter could hear the frustration in his voice. “What you said before. You didn’t _sexually assault_ me. I was a willing participant.”

Uh, that wasn’t what Peter had been expecting. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Thanks? But uh…” He was pretty sure that wasn’t how consent worked. Was it? 

“Now will you please open the door because I don’t think you staying in there alone for a week is going to do you much good.”

Peter was skeptical about all of this, but on the other hand, this was Captain America, and Dr. Banner had double checked that they were all free of Peter’s pheromone influence. So… “What do we do if I can’t control myself and I blast you with pheromones again?”

“FRIDAY, you can scrub the air of contaminants, right?”

“That’s correct, Captain.”

Peter could hear his smile on the other side of the door. “See, we have nothing to worry about.”

Peter slid the deadbolt back and opened the door, doing his best to remain calm and emotionless. His heart was going to pound out of his chest. Very cool. Captain Rogers strode into the room all Captain America confidence, then stopped short, shutting his eyes in what looked like very intense concentration. 

The door shut behind him. Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? His fists were clenched at his sides, and actually? The worst that could happen would be very, very bad. “FRIDAY,” Peter started to say.

“No,” Captain Rogers sounded choked. “Just… give me a second… to adjust.”

Peter tried taking deep breaths to calm himself down, and Rogers followed suit, which, Peter realized when his fists unclenched, face softened, and eyes opened, huge and dilated, was maybe not the best thing for  Steve Captain Rogers to be doing. He was supposed to call for FRIDAY, but he wasn’t thinking, his reaction happened faster than conscious thought. It wasn’t on purpose. It just came out of him like it had with Director Fury, but this time it wasn’t anger. It was concern? Like a blast of concern shooting out of Peter’s entire being? Like a bomb. Then the weird expression on Steve’s big, beautiful face disappeared, replaced with blank unconsciousness as Captain America passed out on the lab floor.

“FRIDAY? Can you scrub the air in the lab and the hallway, please?” Peter asked after the AI had bypassed the quarantine protocol to let him drag Captain Rogers into the hallway as gently as he could before locking Peter back in the lab. What freaked him out was that he wasn’t more freaked out. It had been the right call. Even with the air cleaned up, he was still passed out on the floor. Steve Rogers may be Captain America, but he was no match for Peter’s weird spider pheromones. 

Peter sighed. At least he felt himself doing it this time. “FRIDAY, can you tell Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner that Captain Rogers needs help getting to his room, and also give me a readout of the chemical composition of the air when Captain Rogers went unconscious, please?”

“Mr. Stark is on his way. The readout has been sent to your tablet.”

“Thank you FRIDAY.”

What a mess.

**

_Rogers, you idiot_ , Tony thought to himself as he approached his teammate’s prone body. “FRIDAY, can you get him back upstairs alright?”

“Yes Boss.” The Mark XLVII was more than capable of carrying Steve back to his room on its own.

Tony also would have rather spoken to the kid face to face, but that sounded like a kind of reckless that wouldn’t even really help anything. What would help was a second pair of hands. Never send a soldier to do a scientist’s job.

“Don’t freak out, I’m in a suit,” Tony said when he walked into the lab, the Mark XLVIII, a prototype designed for space travel was probably overkill, but why not give it a spin?

Peter was hunched over a table with his tablet, but visibly shrank in on himself when he heard Tony’s voice. Usually Peter’s head shot up in attention when Tony showed up, looking up at him eagerly with those wide “I can do this Sir!” eyes. Tony could always feel those eyes looking up at him, even through the Spider-Man suit. But now, Peter remained slouched and small, not looking at Tony.

“What’s up, Mr. Stark?” It sounded like a struggle to say, something between a choke and a squeak.

“Cap is on his way back to his room. He’ll be fine. Him barging in like that was stupid, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him.”

“I shouldn’t have let him in… I’m so dumb.”

Tony scoffed. “He would have let himself in. He’s Steve Rogers, the guy who they turned into a superhero because he was too stubborn to stop trying to fight Nazis.” Peter’s body language didn’t look any better. If anything he seemed to crumple in on himself even more. Change tactics then. “Kid, I didn’t come down here for a meeting of the Avengers Self-Loathing Society, which, by the way, your membership application has been rejected. No room for good kids in the ASLS, try taking some lives or soaking yourself in blood money for a few decades, then we’ll consider you for I don’t know, a trial membership.”

“Okay,” Peter said, sullenly. Still, he seemed to have stopped shrinking. That was something.

“How’s the research going? I figured you might need a lab assistant. I don’t know if you’ve seen my credentials, but I’m pretty qualified.”

Finally, finally, Peter looked up at him. “Are you sure? I don’t—“

Whatever Peter didn’t, Tony couldn’t deal with. “Yes, I’m sure. Let’s not do this dance okay? This guilty dance. I’m fine. You’re not fine. We’re trying to make you fine. Okay? So show me what you have so far.”

Peter nodded and smiled a tiny, sad looking smile, and Tony couldn’t help it. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight.

**

After an hour of going over everything with Mr. Stark, Peter felt more relaxed, more normal again. The weirdness of talking to him through the helmet had long since disappeared, and he no longer worried about his mentor sending empty suits of armor to him.

“So it looks like the main pheromone you were emitting ambiently is this stuff, the oxytocin and dopamine precursor? Is that right? All the other ones were responses to stimuli.” Mr. Stark was perched on one of the work stools in a way that should have been awkward but wasn’t. He was just too graceful as Iron Man.

Peter squinted at the holo data his mentor was indicating. God this was easier than trying to just see it all on a tablet screen. “Yeah, that looks right.” His eyes scanned down to the compounds that branched out of the one Mr. Stark had pointed out and he blushed. Bold and prominent, meaning that it was the most common follow-up pheromone compound was…

Mr. Stark pointed right at it, right at the glowing bold compound that had messed him and Captain Rogers up so badly. “Regardless, I think this one,” he drew a circle around it with his finger, then did the same with the fear pheromone Peter had used on Fury, “and this one are the two we need to be most worried about.” It sounded like Stark was clearing his throat. “For, uh, very different reasons, obviously.” He recovered quickly. “But we know how you got here,” he said, pointing to the fear pheromone. “We don’t know how you got from here,” he said about the ambient oxytocin/dopamine pheromone, “to here,” he pointed to the… the sex pheromone. “It’d be interesting to see if your own oxytocin and dopamine levels were also raised, because that might explain it.”

“I don’t think my pheromones work on me, so,” Peter didn’t want to say that his oxytocin and dopamine levels, the chemicals famous for their presence in people falling in love, had been raised by his actual feelings, “but it’s possible?”

Mr. Stark leaned forward onto the desk, his thoughtful humming slightly distorted and tinny from the suit’s voice modulation. “You could just be producing them naturally based on changes in other people’s behavior. A normal human brain responds positively to people being nice, after all.”

Oh no. “That’s true,” Peter agreed, trying to sound normal and not nervous or squeaky.

**

Tony did not need to be attaching the extremely expensive sensors he’d bought so Bucky Barnes could test his brain chemistry levels without triggering his PTSD to Peter’s head. He didn’t need to be testing Peter’s brain chemistry at all. This wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t even helpful. They should be working on a serum or a spray to suppress the production of the pheromones, like Peter had been outlining in his notes. That’s what Tony had planned on doing when he’d walked in.

But sitting in the lab with Peter, all Tony could think about was the kid’s _body_ , his voice, the way he felt up against him, the way his dick felt in Tony’s hand. Looking at Peter working, clearly miserable, even though he’d relaxed a little, all Tony wanted was to make Peter’s face open up for him again. And fuck, the way Tony had felt with him. Peter would have been a huge hit at all those raves back in the 90s, because that shit he did was better than the purest MDMA Tony’d ever tried.

So he had Peter sitting on the medical exam table, hooked up to a machine, taking deep breaths. He also just. Tony needed to know. Tony needed to know if it was pheromones bouncing back on the kid or just teenage hormones. (TEENAGE!!! Peter was 19 fucking years old. But hey that’s why Tony was the founding member of the Avengers Self Loathing Society, right?) Or if Peter really felt for Tony the insane, fucked up, probably very toxic combination of romantic and platonic and familial love that Tony felt for him.

“Fortunately we have SMRI records of your brain chemistry from right before you took that test with Fury, so we have a baseline to compare against,” Tony said, trying to sound casual and calming at the same time. He glanced at the live results. Epinephrine and cortisol, aka stress hormones, were higher than usual, which, under the circumstances, made sense.

Peter nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Okay, don’t stress kid, there’s no wrong answers here.” Tony patted Peter on the shoulder as gently as he could, watching the corner of his HUD as Peter’s cortisol spiked with the contact. Okay, easy on the touching. “And FRIDAY you’re taking live results of the chemical components in the air?”  
“Just as you instructed, boss,” his AI chirped encouragingly.

Tony glanced at the second holo readout, from FRIDAY’s air monitoring. “Peter, I’m just going to start by saying nice things to you.”

“O-okay.” Peter looked terrified. His stress hormones spiked again.

“You’re doing a great job as an Avenger.”

Peter was looking down at the floor, biting his lip. The dopamine level raised slightly, but then fell again. 

Tony tried again. “The thing you did with Fury in that test was so cool. You know no one else ever passed that test as quickly? I guess maybe Natasha? But she’s a Russian trained superspy.” Nothing. Just high stress.

Peter’s hands were clenched at the edge of the table. This wasn’t working. “It- it doesn’t feel real, sir. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Mr. Stark. It just feels like you’re just saying that to make me feel better because—“ He seemed at a loss for words.

“Because I’m uh, literally saying things to try to make you feel better for a science experiment? Maybe?” God Tony was stupid.

Peter looked back up at him, laughing sadly in spite of himself. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Change of plans then.” Tony opened a new holo, tabbing through his logs and reports back and back and back. “‘Subject: Spider-Kid, Date: September 2016,’” he read. Peter had been dying of embarrassment all day, it was only fair for Tony to suffer with him. “You can see this, right?” he asked Peter.

Peter nodded.

“Okay, none of this was written to make you feel better,” Tony said as a preface, and began reading. “‘Found a kid on Youtube in a shitty little onesie running around Queens saving people. Possible Avengers recruit. Huge amounts of talent but what looks like zero amounts of money. Also absolutely no fashion sense.’ Sorry about that, but I wasn’t wrong.”

Tony continued reading. He read for what felt like a long time, ignoring the data readouts, knowing he’d be able to check them when he was done. “‘Peter declined offer to join Avengers. I’ve rarely met anyone so brave. He has the most heart of anyone I’ve ever known.’”

Peter let out a soft little noise that sounded almost like a sob. Tony wished he could have his hemet off and hear with his real ears, not filtered through microphones and speakers. There were small huffs of breath, nervous murmurs he knew Peter was making that he just wasn’t picking up. Not the point, though. Not the point. Come on Stark.

There were details in these notes that Tony hadn’t remembered. He wasn’t sure if Peter did or not. To be honest, he was just glad his own oxytocin and dopamine levels weren’t being measured, because as he read he just felt more and more fond, more and more proud.

“‘Peter is making great progress as an Avenger, really gelling with the team. Rhodey loves him. He taught Vision how to dab, though. So I had to pretend to be mad about that. Pepper wants me to send him to college and think about the future of SI. Do I really want to turn this kid into a ruthless capitalist?’” He hadn’t told Peter about that. Peter looked… Peter looked overwhelmed, pink in the face, fidgety. Tony glanced at the chemical readout: dopamine looked on the high side, but so did epinephrine. “How are you doing, kid? Can you keep going?” Tony let himself put a gauntleted hand on Peter’s knee, and this time, the epinephrine spiked even higher. Cortisol was back down to almost normal. Tony forgot what the difference between the two was. Not a brain chemistry guy.

Peter nodded. “Yes sir, I-I can keep going.” He swallowed, fidgeting again. “And, you’re sure this will be helpful? For figuring out, I mean—“ His bottom lip was quivering. “I don’t-“ Oh no, not tears. “I don’t want to quit the Avengers. Even after what I did. I don’t want to leave. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if that makes me selfish and awful and a monster.”

“Hey,” Tony was sitting on the table next to Peter before he’d even thought about it. Putting his arm around the kid’s shoulders. “You’re not selfish and you’re not a monster. Trust a real selfish monster on this one.”

“B-but I, I hurt you.”

“I told you it was my fault. Remember? I took full responsibility. I’m the authority figure here, so you need to just accept that and move on.” Tony hoped his metal thumb was moving in a way that felt comforting. He couldn’t see the readouts on his HUD screen anymore and didn’t want to change the holo angle. He’d look at it later.

“I’m not a kid. I knocked out Captain America with a single thought. I made you touch me. I made you _like_ me. You can’t write this off, Mr. Stark.”

Tony scoffed. “You didn’t make me like you. That’s insane. Have you even been listening to me? I have liked you from minute one. I liked you before I knew you and have kept liking you more and more since. God, I certainly like you much more than the rest of these jokers.”  
Peter looked up at him, not the usual desperate for approval expression at all, but something hard and angry and ashamed. Tony knew that look intimately and he hated it. He never wanted to see his own eyes transposed onto Peter’s face again. “You know what I mean. I made you _want_ me.” Peter spat the words out like they hurt, and Tony was sure they did.

Fuck it. “No, you didn’t. You made me _act_ on wanting you, which isn’t the same thing at all.”

Peter shook his head. “I made you though, the point is that I made you, which— wait.” It took a second for Tony’s words to sink in. “What?” There were those eyes again, wide and searching, open, beautiful. Beautifully Peter.

“I didn’t _not_ want you, before,” Tony said, trying to not sound awkward but also not sound seductive or anything. That really wasn’t the point here. “It wasn’t something I let myself think about very much, because it’s tremendously inappropriate, especially since I met you when you were in _high school_. But yeah, I’ve been attracted to you. For a bit.” Ugh. Feelings.

Peter took a moment to process that, face red, chewing on his lip again, looking down, and then deflated. “I believe you about all that stuff you read me, all those nice things you thought about me. But there was nothing in those notes about being attracted to me, so. I’m sorry Mr. Stark. I’m sorry for accusing you of lying. But that doesn’t feel true to me. I never felt those things from you until, you know. In St- Captain Rogers’ room.”

What? Tony had just more or less poured his heart out, and this is what he got? “Why would I write in my Iron Man logs that I’m attracted to my teenage mentee?”

Peter blushed even harder, but the open look was totally gone. He looked straight ahead, not at Tony. “You didn’t talk about me like someone you felt… that way about. You talked about me like a kid you were helping. That’s not the same thing. I know the difference.”

If Tony didn’t know Peter he’d think he was being masterfully manipulated. “Fine! FRIDAY, do a search through my logs for all instances of ‘Spider-Man’ or ‘Peter Parker’ and the words ‘beautiful’ ‘graceful’ ‘elegant’ and any and all synonyms thereof!”

“6,509 instances found, boss. Would you like me to load them for you,” why did it sound like even Tony’s AI was accusing him of something. Fuck!

“Are you happy!?” Tony all but growled at Peter, who was beautiful and kind and brilliant but also infuriating and very frustrating, just generally, as a person.

Peter swallowed visibly, looking up at Tony with some hesitation. “Show me.”

“FRIDAY, you heard the man,” Tony said, resigned. And there it all was, right in front of them.

Peter scrolled through wordlessly. He scrolled past “Peter moves so beautifully, he gets more and more graceful every day. I bet he’d be a good dancer” to “this new Spider-Man suit is sexier than a sportscar full of champagne, Peter is going to flip out when he sees the nanotech. God I’m good” to “Peter dodges attacks like he’s in one of those gorgeous fucking Chinese wire action movies. How flexible is he anyways? He’s like a scary little acrobat contortionist genius” to “Peter finally showed me the chemical breakdown of the web fluid. Breathtaking stuff. I almost cried. You get in close and it’s prettier than fucking Beethoven. I wonder if I could convince him to become an engineer.”

Peter was visibly choking back tears and Tony, knowing the kid was distracted, nudged the Peter-monitoring holo so he could sneak a peek at the data. Peter was all over the place: adrenaline and dopamine and testosterone flooding the kid’s poor body. Peter was an emotional rollercoaster mess. This wasn’t fair, what Tony was doing to him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have his answer, that he didn’t know exactly how Peter felt. This needed to stop.

Halfway between a sob and a whisper, Peter croaked out. “This doesn’t mean. This doesn’t mean what you said.”

All those reasonable thoughts of stopping flew out of Tony’s head. “I will take my helmet off and prove it to you, Peter, so help me fucking god,” Tony was angry and frustrated. He’d gotten vulnerable! He was emotionally honest! Did Peter have any idea what a big fucking deal that was? Every therapist Tony had ever seen and then immediately fired would be applauding him right now if they knew, or maybe not. Since, it was… Why wouldn’t Peter just trust him!? Even as he thought that, he knew why. Because Peter _had_ trusted, and that trust was betrayed. What a nightmare. “God Peter, I know that isn’t what you— Here. I- I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry.” And Tony let the suit bare his left hand.

“Mr. Stark!”

“It’s okay. I’m fine as long as I keep the helmet on. Still airtight. Designed for space travel, didn’t I tell you? It’s actually pretty cool— we can. We can talk about the suit later. Sorry.” And then Tony’s hand was touching Peter’s face, skin on skin, wiping away a tear. “Please don’t cry, Peter. Or do cry, I don’t know. Just—“ It wasn’t something Tony could explain with words. He’d been trying. He’d been trying and trying and trying, and as great as he was with words, as great as he was with being charming and smart, this wasn’t a message Peter was going to be able to get without… Tony let his thumb stroke along Peter’s cheekbone. The breath caught in Peter’s throat, his face was getting hotter under Tony’s hand.

“Mr. Stark, I—“

Tony shushed him. “You’re wonderful.” Peter was getting redder, and that little bit of skin-to-skin contact was so, so much. “You’re wonderful and you’re kind and you’re brave and you’re smart.” 

Peter’s face softened. The tears had stopped, but his eyes were still so red and puffy. Tony hated it. He hated seeing Peter so sad.

“And it _was_ funny when you taught Vision how to dab.”

When Peter smiled, something warm and perfect took flight in Tony. “There it is,” he meant to say in his own head but said out loud. They were kind of past inner monologues though, weren’t they. “God Peter, it feels so good to see you smile again, you have no idea.”

A tinge of doubt made Peter’s smile falter. “Are you _sure_ I’m not, you know, affecting you?”

Innuendo popped into Tony’s head because, yes, Peter was in fact _affecting_ him. And it was uncomfortable. Tony hadn’t accounted for that when he’d designed this prototype. (Maybe he should.) The whole point was that he’d always affected him, but that wasn’t helpful. “This feels different. Not like before.”

Peter’s breathing was still measured, eyes wide and dark, his mouth slightly open. Tony was pretty sure the kid was hard, just from Tony’s hand on his face. Tony let his pinky trace a line up Peter’s jaw, and he _groaned_ , eyes closing as he leaned into the touch. Spider senses maybe? God that was hot. 

“You’re so beautiful, Peter.” It felt so good to touch him. Tony wanted to cry. If Peter hit him with the pheromones he probably would. Instead Tony just kept touching Peter’s face. He pulled the nano-particles up his other arm too, his left hand finding Peter’s, running up Peter’s arm, and even that was enough to make the kid shiver, hips bucking a little. 

“Jesus, kid,” Tony huffed out. 

And then Peter stopped him. Grabbing his hand and pulling it off his face. “How does it feel different?” Tony could see the outline of his dick through his jeans, and everything from the blown out pupils to the flushed skin to the “fuck me” arch of his back was telling Tony that Peter was blissed out on lust. The grip on Tony’s wrist said otherwise, as did the note of panic in Peter’s voice. 

How did it feel different? Well, before Tony had felt safe, now he felt… painfully, painfully exposed. Even in his suit, he felt raw and cut open. Tony didn’t want to say that, but he owed it to Peter, didn’t he? Or some version of it? “I’m nervous now. I wasn’t nervous before.”

As difficult as it had been to say, that’s what seemed to do it. The pain was gone from Peter’s voice and expression, and yeah, the suspicion was fading, quickly being replaced by something between awe and mischief and surrender. “ _I’m_ making you nervous?”

“Yeah, you, like this, touching you, it makes me nervous.” There was no disguising the heat in Tony’s voice. Not even Iron Man could do it. 

Peter’s face was so hot, the pink darkening to red. “Oh,” he said quietly. It felt like Peter was looking into his soul. Peter moved the hand he was grabbing so Tony was cupping his jaw. “So, this?” Peter asked. “Does this make you nervous?” If he let his thumb rest, it would end up right on Peter’s bottom lip. As if Peter was reading his mind, he let his mouth fall open slightly, like an invitation. 

“Yeah,” Tony gritted out. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Peter’s grip softened, but he didn’t let go. Two slender fingers found the inside of Tony’s wrist.

“I believe you,” Peter said so, so softly. “Your pulse is _really_ fast.” There was something decisive about the way he said it— hard data. Tony couldn’t help but respect it.

Then Peter was moving Tony’s other hand, guiding it to his hip, right at the hem of Peter’s t-shirt. “How about this?” Peter asked.

Peter was testing him. Of course he was. “You’re going to make me a lot more than nervous if you keep going.”

Peter let go of Tony’s hands and nodded, blushing dark and smiling. “Do you want to? Keep testing me? My responses to stimuli, I mean?” He said it looking up at Tony hopefully. For someone who was so good at accidentally seducing people, Peter was also really nailing intentional seduction. Or maybe Tony was just too far gone. 

Tony’s hands founds Peter’s again. “Anything you want, Peter.” When he started saying it, he only meant whatever Peter wanted to do right at that moment, but as the syllables left his lips, Tony realized that he meant it completely. Not because of pheromones or guilt or obligation. But because Peter was Peter.

Peter’s eyes darted away, and he got even redder in the face, so Tony really thought he was going to ask for more touching or a hand job or something. Something sexual. What Tony wasn’t expecting was for Peter to stutter out, “w-w-we could go back to you saying things to me? Testing my uh… responses to… p-positive reinforcement. If you want?” He looked more nervous asking for that than he had looked moving Tony’s hands around for him. He looked shy. He looked delicious.

“Of course Peter, great idea. That would actually really help with data collection.”

Peter moaned. Okay. That was definitely a response to positive reinforcement.

But the way they were sitting next to each other, that wasn’t going to work. Tony stood up and rolled Banner’s little doctor stool over. “I think it might be easier if you lie down,” he explained, when Peter looked at him confused.

“So you aren’t going to touch me more?” He sounded heartbroken.

“I can still—“ Tony started, but Peter was already standing up, slotting himself between Tony’s legs, leaning back against the front of the armor. Tony could look down and see Peter’s face, and they were so close.

“Are you sure this is comfortable? Don’t you feel like you’re getting spooned by a car?”

Peter shook his head. “Not by a car.” He blushed such a deep pink, and Tony didn’t make him explain wanting to be close. Kid had been through enough.

Tony let the nano-particles expose his arms all the way up to his shoulders, wrapping one around Peter. “Better, maybe?”

Peter squeaked, which seemed like a yes.

Tony stroked Peter’s hair with the hand that wasn’t hugging him. “Just relax, okay?”

And Peter settled with that, leaning back onto the chest of the suit and looking up at Tony’s helmet, smiling. Tony would just have to keep petting his hair. “Good,” Tony murmured, “you’re doing great. You’re perfect.”

Peter twitched and shivered with the compliment, eyes clenching shut. Tony lamented not being able to hear the noise Peter must have made, but at least he could touch him.

“So it really wasn’t pheromone feedback, was it? That got you going?” Tony said as he thought. “Just us praising you was enough.”

Peter’s eyes shot open, wide and nervous. But Tony was prepared, rubbing soft circles into his hair.

“That’s gotta be hard, I bet, having a kink like that, for a boy as good as you are?”

Peter sighed, eyelids heavy again, back arching.

Tony smoothed his hands down Peter’s chest and stomach, loving the feeling of Peter’s muscles spasming and contracting at the contact. “You’re so responsive,” Tony said, wondering at it. “Are you just this sensitive?”

“Ever since the spider bite,” Peter groaned, nodding his head.

“It’s amazing. It’s honestly…” Tony didn’t have words to describe it. Again. Words kept failing him when it came to Peter. “You’re breathtaking, Peter. You really are.” That wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough at all. But it was the best he could do. 

Tony let his fingertip brush against the waistline of Peter’s jeans, just teasing him, and was rewarded with Peter’s mouth falling open with a loud gasp, entire body leaning into the touch. 

Peter could have grabbed Tony’s hands and moved them where he wanted them to go, but he didn’t. They were firmly on either side of the suit’s legs, Tony’s sensors telling him that Peter was touching it. He wished he could feel it. So Tony kept teasing him, just that fingertip across the little stretch of skin above his jeans, dipping down a millimeter or so sometimes.

And Peter bucked his hips, twitching and gasping and moaning. It was obscene.

“Do you think you could come like this, Peter? Do you think I could make you come in your jeans just from touching your stomach?”

Peter’s nostrils flared. “I- I don’t know.”

Tony slipped his hand under Peter’s t-shirt, ghosting his hand up the kid’s abs.

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark,” Peter sobbed.

“You’re so gorgeous, falling apart for me like this. You make such cute little noises.” Peter was biting his lip and with every compliment his hips twitched a little. “I think,” Tony brushed a fingertip over Peter’s nipple, savoring the whimper it elicited. “I think you’re such a good boy that you could come just from this.”

“Really sir?” It was half nervous laugh half pornographic moan. Peter’s hips hadn’t stopped twitching. It looked like his body was just desperate for his cock to be touched, but Peter didn’t move to touch it. Tony wasn’t just saying it because it was hot— Peter was an _extremely_ good boy.

“We don’t have to. I’d love to get my hands on your pretty dick again, Peter. You were so pretty, so perfect when you came for me this morning.”

“Hnnng, thank you sir. Thank you Mr. Stark. But… W-we’d get more data, wouldn’t we? If you didn’t?”

Now Tony was the one groaning, “oh my _god_ , Peter.” He had no idea if Peter was being sincere or if it was his coy seductive way of saying he wanted Tony to keep teasing him. It didn’t matter. It was simply the hottest thing anyone had ever said to Tony in history. His dick throbbed. He was pretty sure he’d just leaked so much precome it was soaking through his sweats and into the armor. (Again, not something he’d considered when designing it.) “Great thinking, kid. This is why I keep you around.” Tony’s mouth was dry, his face was hot. This was murder. Peter was going to kill him.

“Mr. Stark? Can I please just ask for one thing?”

“Anything. Like I said before, anything.”

“Could you maybe, um, or I could, take my shirt off? Please?”

That surprised Tony, but he quickly lifted the t-shirt up over Peter’s head. “Of course, I only didn’t before because I figured, you know, the armor, probably not the best feeling on your skin.”

Peter spun to face him, putting his hands around Tony’s neck, looking up at the Iron Man helmet like it was a face. Which made sense, since that’s where Tony’s face was. On his head. In the helmet. “Okay, let’s keep going sir.”

Tony dropped the shirt to the floor and took the image of Peter in. “You really are beautiful,” Tony marveled, tracing the lines of Peter’s torso with his fingers. There was a dark spot on Peter’s jeans. The suit’s HUD notified Tony that it was picking up new contact points. Peter. Peter was moving his hands along the back of… Peter was _caressing_ the Mark XLVIII.

They’d have to do this without the armor, once Tony had convinced Peter that it was okay. Tony wanted to feel Peter’s hands on him, the heat of Peter’s breath on his face. Tony ran his hands up Peter’s sides, getting a lovely shiver out of him. “This is murder,” he gritted out, mouth feeling hot and dry. “I want to taste you.”

Peter shook his head weakly. “Can’t. Can’t hurt you again Mr. Stark.”

So Tony took what he could get, which was petting Peter in slow, tickly gestures: up Peter’s spine, over his shoulders, under his arms. There was something obscenely intimate about touching Peter’s armpits. The hair was so soft and fine, and Peter’s face scrunched up like it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to endure. “Ticklish, Peter?”

His answer came out breathless. “Y-yes sir, but? It feels? God, Mr. Stark, I—“

“You’re doing great,” Tony said encouragingly. “You’re being so good, Peter. I wish I could show you what you’re doing to me.” Tony didn’t need the suit’s sensors to know that Peter was running the flats of his palms down the front of the Mark XLVIII. He could see it for himself. Tony’s own hands were up in the air, too shocked to move. No one had ever… on the suit? Why was this doing it for him? People had joked about him getting off to the Iron Man suits before, were they right all along? “Oh my god Peter,” Tony choked, his suit sensors telling him that Peter’s hands had stopped on top of the Mark XLVIII’s groinplate. “This is _so_ unfair.”

**

If Peter had been capable of rational thought, he would probably be thinking: _well, this isn’t how I expected to end my day_. But he wasn’t, so he was thinking what he was saying: “right here Mr. Stark?”

Peter had given up pretenses and just let himself touch the suit. It was a prototype that hadn’t been painted yet, and it almost felt like the suit was naked, more open. Most people didn’t get to see the Iron Man prototypes at all, let alone rub their hands on the smooth curved metal that protected Mr. Stark’s cock.

“Yeah, Peter, right there.” Mr. Stark sounded wrecked, which sent a flash of heat through Peter. His hands were in the air still, like he’d forgotten what to do with them. Peter did that! Not the pheromones, not guilt or obligation or anything, just Peter. Just Peter being himself.

“Sir, you can’t feel this, can you?” Peter was pretty sure he couldn’t.

“No, but I get notifications that you’re there. I see what you’re doing, even if I can’t feel it. And Christ, Peter…” He seemed to remember he had hands, and put them on Peter’s bare shoulders. Then he chuckled in a way that sounded? Choked? Embarrassed? “This is one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me.”

That was too much. Peter felt a high pitched, mortifying sound escape his throat, and he plastered himself against the front of the suit, face on the chestplate, hard and leaking and desperate. His jeans were wet, and all he wanted to do was rub up against Mr. Stark, or, god, for Mr. Stark to reach into his jeans and jack him off— it wouldn’t take much. But Mr. Stark wanted to see if he could make Peter come without touching his dick, and Peter really did think they would get more data this way, but he also wanted to see if he could do that for him too.

“That’s it, kid, just relax…FRIDAY, give me eyes on Peter’s face, please,” Stark muttered.

“I’m sorry sir, I can—“

“No, you stay where you are. I just like looking at your faces. You make such cute faces, Peter. You have no idea… Jesus, look at you.” Peter felt each compliment Mr. Stark gave him hit his whole body, and then whatever Peter did would make Mr. Stark compliment him more. A feedback loop. A really hot, really embarrassing feedback loop.

Then Mr. Stark’s hand was in Peter’s hair, something that felt so good Peter wouldn’t let anyone do it to him casually anymore. He felt another pulse of precome. Mr. Stark was being so nice to him even though he seemed to be genuinely suffering in the prototype suit.

Peter didn't mean for the image to pop into his mind: Tony Stark, Iron Man, in special armor that adapted, molded to Mr. Stark’s _whole_ body, that could transfer sensation to his brain, bending Peter over the exam table and just fucking him open. He felt his body shudder, the cold of the suit combining with the heat of bare hands an overwhelming sensation.

Peter kept rubbing the plate of metal, like if he did it enough Mr. Stark’s cock would emerge like in his accidental fantasy. He was careful though to keep his own dick a hair’s breadth away from touching anything, for the experiment, or because he wanted to make Mr. Stark proud of him for having so much self-control. Whatever. The feeling of Mr. Stark’s hand in Peter’s hair was so good, and Peter _was_ so, so, embarrassingly close to coming in his jeans. 

Mr. Stark had been right. This wasn’t like before. There was a tension to what they were doing that didn’t exist when they’d been in Captain Rogers’ room. Peter was sensitive but he wasn’t usually _this_ sensitive. The air around them felt electric and every square centimeter of Peter’s skin was on high alert in a way that was completely different from the hyper-vigilance of combat but also kind of the same?

“You’re incredible, Peter. You really are. You’re… honestly you’re a little _too_ good at this,” Mr. Stark murmured to him. The words were so good to hear that Peter almost didn’t wish that he could feel his mentor's lips up against his ear.

“Sir? Sir, I think I’m getting close?” He’d given up on trying to sound composed.

And oh, _oh_ , Mr. Stark switched from combing his fingers through Peter’s hair to pulling it in short gentle tugs, his other hand dropping to the small of Peter’s back and holding him. “You’re doing so well, just relax. Just enjoy it.”

“I’m sorry that you can’t—“

“No, don’t be sorry. I could just touch you like this all week and be happy. You feel so good, kid.” And then Mr. Stark’s hand fell lower, down the backseam of Peter’s jeans, and yeah, okay, now Peter was regretting their decision. His hips were bucking and twitching without his permission.

“Please, sir, please, please,” he felt like he was going to cry. He needed something. His cock was aching to be touched. 

“You’re so good Peter, you’re so fucking good,” Mr. Stark said, _grabbing_ Peter and pulling him in by his ass, all but closing the last bit of distance between Peter and himself, and it felt like permission. Peter rolled his hips back into Mr. Stark's hand once and he was gone, falling and floating at the same time, coming in his jeans while Mr. Stark tugged his hair and squeezed his ass and talked him through it. “I’m so proud of you. You did it. I knew what a good boy you were, what a good boy you’ve always been. You’re all mine Peter. You’re perfect.”

Peter didn’t need to check his pulse or see a brain chemistry readout to know that he was telling the truth.

**

Tony watched, shocked he didn't need to do the same thing, that he was still, somehow hard, while Peter tenderly changed out of his ruined jeans and boxers into the Avengers sweatpants they kept in the lab. He scrolled through the data they’d collected, trying to look casual.

“Find anything interesting?” Peter asked. He looked happy, not shrinking in on himself anymore, not ashamed. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look prouder to come their jeans.

“Did I ever? I’m looking at him,” Tony quipped automatically.

Peter blushed, but smiled wide, and god, god Tony was fucked. “I mean, in the data, is anything promising? Anything we can work with?”

And Tony did feel a little guilty, because no, they hadn’t made any progress in terms of controlling Peter’s pheromones. Their experiment had been entirely for Tony’s benefit.

As if he could read Tony’s mind, Peter continued, “I mean, even if we didn’t, I’m uh, glad to know I didn’t sexually assault my hero and mentor Tony Stark. And, you know, it was really fun, and I feel a lot better.” He looked up at Tony hopefully.

“At the very least we figured out that nobody should be calling you a ‘good boy’ in the field,” Tony shrugged.

Peter blushed and nodded. “I think that suppression is probably my best bet for right now, until I do some more controlled experiments.”

Tony felt his eyebrows raise. “More ‘controlled experiments’ huh?”

“I didn’t mean! I just— You know, there’s actually more emotions that I feel than just fear and horniness.” Peter spoke nervously, still blushing. “But, it might be good to also practice this stuff again. If you uh— don’t mind, obviously.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Cool! Okay!” There was that blinding smile again. Tony felt dizzy. He needed to jack off but he didn’t want to leave Peter.

“You do need to work with me, so it would be good for you to learn how to control yourself around all this sexy metal,” Tony joked.

Peter’s smile softened, and got smaller. He looked older when he did that, kinda sweet and rueful. “I never told you who my first crush was, did I sir?”

“No, you never did.”

“My very first crush was on Iron Man.”

It shouldn’t have been hot, and certainly shouldn’t have been _romantic_ , and wouldn’t have been, honestly, on anyone else. But it was Peter, and on Peter that meant so much more. Tony had thought he’d chosen Peter, but Peter had chosen him first.

“Mr. Stark?”

“I want to hug you but I don’t trust myself to not do it so hard that I crush you. I also want to kiss you and I can’t because I’m wearing a helmet and- and- I don’t know. Do you want an island? I’m really bad at expressing love to people without buying them shit. it’s one of my main issues I’ve been trying to work on.”

Peter’s eyes widened and sparkled. Did he really want an island? Or. Oh. Tony said love.

Tony played it off cool as best as he could, trying to give the impression of scoffing. (Could he make a scoff capable Iron Man suit?) “Of course I love you, I wouldn’t spend all night trying to fuck the inside of my spacesuit prototype so I could gently get off someone I didn’t love. Jesus, kid. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Peter walked over to him and hugged him. “I love you too, sir.”

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter and tried to hug back without engaging too many of his back muscles. His sensors indicated pressure on the bottom right of his helmet. Peter was pressing a kiss to it.

“There is something, actually, that you could do,” Peter said, a lilt in his voice that sounded almost mischievous. “This suit uses nano-technology, right? To form your armor? And it’s obviously somewhat adaptable. Well, what if you gave them more free reign? They could form weapons or wings or… anything you wanted. And they could adapt to any, uh, changes your body went through inside the suit. Had you thought about doing that? I think it’d be… useful. For Iron Man.”

That was… a really good idea. Why hadn’t Tony thought of that? Maybe because Tony had never wanted to give an Iron Man suit a dick before, as shocked as a lot of people would be to hear that. 

“You’re a genius… Horniness really _is_ the mother of invention,” Tony said, awed. He didn't have to see or feel Peter's face to know he was grinning. Tony had created a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for more shame and self-blaming, but it mostly gets addressed. 
> 
> PS sorry steve I promise I'll make it up to you. please try to think more clearly, I thought you were a strategic expert?


End file.
